


Anything For You

by Funkspiel



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Birthing, Body Modification, Breast Growth, Dragon Eggs, Egg Laying, Eggpreg, Feminization, Impregnation, M/M, Magical Impregnation, Male Lactation, Mpreg, Oviposition, labor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 08:17:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16237703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Funkspiel/pseuds/Funkspiel
Summary: When Newt and Percival find a clutch of dying dragon eggs during a raid, Newt reveals the dangerous risk he is willing to take to save them. A risk that is not as dangerous for Percival, even though it frightens him. A risk he offers to take; anything for Newt.(From Kinktober 2018)





	1. Impregnation

Percival knew how he had ended up like this, naked and writhing on a bed turned ‘nest’ in Newt Scamander’s case. He was director of magical security and no stranger to tragedy, and yet the sight of Newt hovering next to another dead creature – another victim of illegal trading – had softened him more than he ever could have anticipated possible.

He’d never forget the sight of the man on his knees, hands trembling as they cradled the jaw of a dragon mother the size of a large nundu into his lap. The dragon had been beautiful once, Newt explained to him with a hush that left Percival shaken. The teal scales would’ve shone like rainbows in early morning mists and warm summer dawns. And its eyes – so dull and glassy now – would’ve looked like spun sea glass. It was a rare creature, perhaps one of the last of its kind. Dragons this small, even as large as it seemed, were easy to capture in comparison to their larger cousins. Easy to capture, easy to move, easy to handle, easy to kill.

And now another mother was gone from this world.

“And people call them monsters,” Newt whispered. The sentiment hung heavy between them. The men that Percivals’ aurors had just arrested – men and women that were still alive – they were the monsters. They entered a forest with malicious intent whereas this creature was merely existing. Percival’s heart felt heavy and cold in his chest at the realization. He thought it couldn’t have gotten worse until Newt found the clutch of its eggs still hidden beneath its body; its fading warmth the only thing keeping them alive.

Newt had moved like a man turned storm, gathering the eggs to himself and disappearing into the case. The nest he had made seemingly in moments was beautiful. Lush, charmed blankets and hot rocks and steam…

But it would not be enough, Newt explained. Magical blankets and steamed rocks would never fool those eggs into thinking they were still with their mother. Newt had bought them time, not life.

“What can we do?” Percival asked, back ramrod straight and hands laced at the small of his back as he uncomfortably watched Newt pace and skim through notes and riffle through potions and herbs.

“They need a host,” Newt said.

Percival didn’t like the sound of that.

“A host? As in another dragon?”

Newt snorted, this shy of honestly frustrated, and said, “Obviously not another dragon. Had we another dragon this wouldn’t be a problem. They need a womb in lieu of their mother’s scales and heat.”

Percival followed him as he licked a thumb to flick through the pages of an old book, the pages dogeared and worn. His response died on his tongue when he caught sight of the page for himself.

A ritual for human fertility; specifically regardless of gender.

“You can’t be serious,” Percival said before he could catch himself, his skin a good two shades lighter than it should be. Newt didn’t even bother to look at him, too lost in his own thoughts to hear the surreal horror in Percival’s tone.

“Quite,” Newt said, but his tone was distant, sad. “I used to help in this way, before the incident. Before someone robbed me of that.”

Percival saw the way Newt rubbed his belly, and it didn’t take much for him to connect the dots with his mental image of Newt naked. That would be the spot where a very specific scar ran deep along the flesh of Newt’s belly.

Ah.

“Then why…?” Percival asked uncertainly as Newt continued to scan the page.

Newt didn’t even look away as he said as simply as one might describe the color of the sky, “I can’t let them die.”

And he couldn’t let Newt die…

So here he was, hands gripping desperately at the bed sheets and cock hard against his belly as Newt spread some strange oil onto and around the rim of his entrance. He felt his hole flutter and wink spasmodically for a moment beneath the blushing heat that oil inspired in his skin before slowly his hole began to yawn open, making him suck in a startled breath. He opened his eyes to look at Newt who was kneeling between his knees, pupils blown as that heat began to creep up the soft skin of his taint to his balls, his cock, and up into his belly. He felt hot, flushed. It was becoming hard to think.

“Newt?”

“Normal side effect, I assure you,” Newt said as he pecked kissed into the inside of Percival’s thigh and pet his flank. “Necessary, actually.”

Percival moaned. The room swam into a wash of water colors, hazy and beautiful – and Newt’s eyes stood out like gems beneath a great clear lake. He was doing something… he was here for a reason, he…

Something pressed against the rim of his ass, hot and getting hotter. He could feel himself opening to accept the thing, his muscles contracting to draw it in in great, strange waves he had never experienced before. He felt Newt let go of the egg when it was a quarter way in and yet still it advanced up into the recesses of Percival’s ass as the oil and the spell Newt had cast upon it made Percival’s body hungry for life.

Slick oozed out around the egg in great globs that turned its hard shell into glimmering, pearlescent rainbows instead of dark ash as it had been without its mother. Between his knees, Newt sucked in a relieved breath.

“Oh you’re perfect,” he praised, petting and kissing and breathing awed words into Percival’s flesh. “I knew you’d be a good mama. The second you offered, I knew you’d be so good.”

He traced and petted Percival’s writhing hole as it slowly closed around the small, rounded point of the egg and disappeared – but Percival felt every moment of its unseen journey. It crept over his prostate with such patience his cock began to jerk and dribble upon his slowly bulging stomach, leaving him to writhe on the bed and toss his head helplessly as the egg rolled back and forth upon that little gland during a stuttered contraction before finally passing, settling higher up into some magic pocket within himself that Newt said would become his womb.

Sweat beaded upon his forehead and slicked his normally polished hair onto his brow. His cheeks were rosy with exertion, eyes glossy with overwhelmed sensations. His mouth was parted on breath he couldn’t catch as he watched Newt reached over into the charmed towels and draw another ashy egg from the pile.

“Such a good mama,” he purred as he pressed the tip of another egg to his entrance. Percival’s hole yawned open. His cock dribbled.

He swelled.


	2. Milk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival's body experiences so unexpected changes.

Newt managed to get all four eggs into Percival’s willing womb. Four fist sized eggs. Every time he thought about it, his cock jumped – always making him flush for his own lewdness. He managed to get four eggs into Percival’s body, a body made malleable by magic, and then had filled him with a liquid so thick and scorching, Percival was convinced he’d never feel chill again – or thin.

He had started off with a paunch from that, in the days that immediately followed the ritual. But he hadn’t considered how long the gestation would take nor the fact that those eggs would continue to grow. He had seen dragon eggs – they tended to differ rather drastically in size dependent upon the breed. And of dragons Newt had told him the one whose eggs he was carrying was smaller.

But fist-sized halfway through growth was hardly small…

He knew that Newt had another ritual to make it as easy –  _and enjoyable_ – to birth as it had been to be impregnated, but he could not help but feel anxious at the thought of passing eggs so large. And they grew quickly. Already he had to purchase new pants, his old ones unusable even after magically letting them out at the seams.

And to make matters more complicated, there were effects Newt hadn’t seen coming. Effects like the swelling of his pectorals, the widening of his areolas, the lengthening of h-his…  _nipples_. Rosy, pebbled nubs that had once sat on his chest so small were now rather hard to ignore.

He whined as Newt massaged the tissue around the areola of his right pec, fingers palpating the already darkened circle of flesh until it became flushed and erect. There was pressure behind that little nub of flesh, pressure that seemed to grow with Newt’s skillful fingers. He whined but quickly bit the sound into a grunt, blushing. Newt looked at him with a strange expression. Something amused. Something hungry.

“This is extraordinary,” he said earnestly as he then went to the other pectoral muscle, massaging that one as he had the first. “They say the results of that fertility ritual are different for everyone, but you – this is the first time I’ve seen such a thorough transformation.”

“Transformation,” Percival repeated back blandly, stomach hollow at the word despite being so very full, his belly sitting atop his thighs.

“Yes. Typically the ritual merely provides a magical womb within a male host like yourself, but you… Percy, your body is preparing itself to feed your children.”

It was precisely what he had been dreading, and yet his cock bobbed up against the hard jut of his belly that was smothering it, shamefully interested.

Newt pinched his nipple suddenly, none too gently, and Percival yelped. Newt kissed the abused bit of flesh with a tenderness that made Percival’s heart stutter before switching between gently stroking that nub with his thumb and tugging it. Percival moaned before he could realize what was happening, hips jerking at the sensation. Something began to burn inside his breast and he sucked in a sudden breath at the feeling of  _swelling_. He looked down, cheeks ablaze and eyes glassy, just in time to see the tit in Newt’s hand slowly, very slightly swell even further into his palm. 

He had a proper tit now, and he had a feeling this was just the beginning of it. 

“N-Newt,” he gasped, but words fizzled out in his head when Newt suddenly ducked down to capture that nipple in his mouth and suck. His other hand, now free, immediately went to the other nipple and began to give it the same treatment. Tug, pull, brush, soothe, tug, pull, brush, soothe.

And his mouth, hell’s bells his mouth was scorching and wet. He sucked and with every nibbling pull Percival felt more pressure build behind his nipple, growing with every signal Newt sent it to fill, to feed provide, to produce. 

He whined when the redhead’s knee found its way between his legs, Newt using the leverage to press himself more fully into that breast. Immediately Percival’s hips began to grind into that firm column of muscle as much as they could, but his belly prevented him from truly getting the friction he needed and he whined, louder now, unable to ground himself with so many sensations vying for his attention. He had never felt so soft, so worshipped, so out of control and yet safe.

Newt gave his nipple one last lick when it became apparent no milk would come yet. He leaned back to admire his work. His mouth had left Percival’s nipple red and swollen atop a larger breast than when they had started. His chest was flushed, his other breast well on its way to even with its sibling. His face was beat red, his eyes barely open from the pleasure, mouth parted on panting breaths. His weakly thrust his heavy hips up again. 

Newt grinned.

“What a good mama,” he purred, one large hand reaching beneath Percival’s growing belly to grab his straining prick. “How else will your body change for me? So good, so kind to our babies. You gave them a womb, a new chance at life, and now you make them food for when they arrive. It’ll all fade once they’re born and weened, of course, but for now,” he sucked in a heady breath, pupils blown wide at the thought, “What else, my perfect mama? Will your hips spread? Will your ass become soft to better cushion them? How big will your tits get? Your belly? What other surprises do you have for me?”

Percival writhed in the stroking clench of Newt’s hand. He whimpered.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you, mama. I’ll help,” Newt purred and set lips upon his other, unattended breast. He sucked, the tit swelling beneath his lips and tongue, and Percival threw his head back on a moan.

He came from that, from Newt’s mouth turning his body into the perfect mother. And he shook as he realized he wanted more. He wanted  _this._


	3. Birth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Labor, like impregnation, ends up more pleasurable than Percival had prepared for.

Of anything, Graves is grateful for the mandatory leave Picquery had insisted on – as much for his health as he assisted Newt as for his stress. He could not think of what it would be like to totter around the Woolworth Building, big as a cow – but sometimes he dreamed about it. He dreamed about himself walking about the building’s many halls, barefoot and pregnant, blushing red from the many looks his gravid stomach and heavy tits granted him.

He always woke up sweating, heart thundering – grateful for it to be over and yet, painfully hard beneath the smothering weight of his children. And Newt always seemed to know, because no sooner did he wake with a needy, confused moan was the man’s hand reaching beneath his pregnant paunch to grab him and guide him to completion. Leaving him with rosy shoulders, blushing cheeks and a chest so pink, his breasts leaking in sympathy for the children to come.

Here in Newt’s case, he had an enclosure all his own, so to speak. A lovely cabin Newt had built, larger than the shack the man had somehow fathomed he could call home – the madman. It was a homey thing, nothing ostentatious or overtly grand. But it was cozy, and it smelled of Newt and fire, and that appeased both Percival and his dragon’s brood.

So he did not worry over the way his milk stained his shirts – particularly after two days of bothering with charms and spells and little gauze pads to try and staunch them. They wept as they wished and finally he accepted it for what it was, uncontrollable without Newt’s mouth to drain him. His ankles swelled, and his back always ached and his hips… In the mirror, he could see that they had widened; his narrow frame long gone. Would that too return to normal once his mothering days had passed?

They were alien to him, and yet – the way Newt framed them with his large hands made him almost fancy them himself.

When his breasts began to rest upon his belly, he knew he must be close. But even so, labor took him by surprise. Mostly because he had kept the pangs that had begun to plague him to himself – they were not that bad, after all. Indigestion, most likely; his young had made his stomach unfamiliar to him.

He woke in the middle of the night to a restless stomach and a wetness that seeped into the sheets. For a terrifying moment he thought he had pissed himself, the eggs finally having gotten the better of his bladder. But Newt seemed to know what was happening before he did, murmuring soft words beneath his breath like “I should have noticed” as he gathered supplies and set them around Percival.

A potion was passed between his lips, smelling and tasting of roses – sweet and floral. It took the worst of his panic that he hadn’t even realized was growing overwhelming, easing his heart into a steady beat within his chest as Newt muttered something about his diameter.

Another potion was applied to his spreading, winking anus – coaxing it into something looser and more forgiving as just beyond a hit of rainbow scales began to appear, fat bottom up.

“Ah,” Newt murmured, his lips a little taut, “The largest one.”

Percival didn’t ask how he knew, but his heart did give a little pang when Newt took hold of his hand and looked at him quite seriously.

“I need you to trust me,” he said. “This will take time, but they will come out and I swear, it won’t hurt. I made that potion myself. It won’t hurt.”

And then his hand left him, preoccupied with his birth.

Percival was sweating. His belly felt like a great weight smothering him and he was ready for it to be gone, for the eggs to leave him, particularly when they were putting so much pressure on his lower—

He gasped and tossed his head back as the egg descended and began to push upon his prostate. He waited for it to pass, only it appeared caught.

 _This will take time,_ Newt had said, and he realized all at once what the true warning in his words were. It would not hurt, but it would be overwhelming. His dick bobbed against his stomach, out of sight thanks to his girth and unreachable by his own hands. He didn’t know what to do. He reached for it as the egg bobbed against his prostate again only to edge back once more, teasing him, making his prick drool.

“N-Newt,” he whined, face flushed and teeth gritted as he tossed his head back and forth. He grabbed at the sheets. He reached for Newt, for his prick. He couldn’t find either. All logical thought was leaving him the more the egg pressed upon him and the potion fuzzed his mind. All he knew was that he needed  _something_ – the egg out, to be touched, soft lips – and could not find it.

“Ssh, ssh,” Newt hushed him gently, petting his thigh, no doubt grateful that as labor had approached Percival had gotten into the habit of sleeping naked – already too hot from his eggs to sleep with clothing anyway. “You’re doing so well, love, push for me. Can you do that? Can you push for me?”

He tried. It took so much effort to move it, each contraction doing more than his effort alone, but every time it hit the apex of his prostate his cock jerked and wept and he wept with it. His balls were so tight against him, and he needed to come but that much direct pressure for that long seared his spine like a wildfire, leaving him blind and dumb in its path.

“T-Touch me,” he sputtered as he heaved, trying to bear down, “Touch me!”

“I’m so sorry, love, of course.”

A hand, freckled and strong, wrapped around him and jerked him once, twice – and he spilled, the force of his orgasm expelling the egg enough to finally breach his gaping, prepared hole. The sensation of it falling from him and nestling between his cheeks as odd; particularly because he could tell it was large, no longer simply the size of a man’s fist.

He fell slack into the bedsheets and sucked in a giant, heaving breath, only to sob when pressure began to edge against his prostate again – the next egg.

His hands shook. He sobbed, wrung dry by the first delivery. Newt took his hand and kissed his palm, then his wrist and murmured praise and comfort into the pulse he found beneath his lips.

He had promised Newt he would do this, Percival reminded himself. He had promised.

He bore down again. The second egg drove his softening cock to hardness once more and he bit his lip from how overly sensitive it felt against his own, somewhat smaller belly.

It passed his prostate easier than the first, the path having been laid out for it, and took its brother’s place to nestle between his cheeks. He tried to inhale, to take a moment, but the next was already behind it, already at the apex of his swollen prostate and pressing. He screamed as a third orgasm was drawn from him nearly simultaneously of his first, no doubt assisted by the potion, his spend thin and small in comparison to his first two ejaculations. It reached his entrance and then it stopped, Newt’s hands holding it in just past the winking muscle of his anus.

He weakly craned his head up to see Newt blushing, pupils so large.

“This will stop the next from falling too soon,” he said. “Take a breath. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Mercis Lewis, the man was holding his egg  _inside him_ , keeping it from distending his hole or leaving him. His softening cock twitched at the thought and he flushed realizing what that revelation had done to him.

He took a minute to catch his breath, the size of the first egg too short to reach his prostate properly with its tapered tip but long enough to keep the other egg from falling yet. He sucked in a few breathes to prepare himself, then quickly nodded.

“Ok,” he said before he could talk himself out of it.

“Ok,” Newt said and kissed his thigh before gently and slowly removing his fingers, guiding the egg out of him. It’s brother followed swiftly, taking its place almost as soon as it was gone, pressing hard and wide against his abused prostate. Percival bit him lip, screwed shut his eyes and tried to swallow his whimper as he pushed, heels scrabbling against the sheets on either side of Newt.

With his tract stretched from three prior eggs, it left him smoothly, but he felt ever ridge that passed his prostate. His prick, however, couldn’t quite stand again – instead surprising them both as it sputtered a weak, watery load while soft, painting the crevice of the thigh it rested on.

The last egg fell from him.

Newt murmured warm things he couldn’t quite catch.

The world came and went as hands cleaned his soft prick, his weeping ass, his softened belly, his brow. The eggs were whisked away to the creature Newt had said would lay on them until they hatched. And finally, Newt returned with rushed, soft apologies for having left him for even a moment as he wound himself behind them, letting Percival turn to mush in his arms.

He had birthed dragons, he thought stunned. He had orgasmed from it, enjoyed it. He had even spent himself while soft…

This was his life since meeting Newt Scamander; unfathomable, unbelievable. With a sleepy sigh he tucked his head to rest his brow against Newt’s chest, just beneath his chin. This was his life now, and his old one seemed so pale by comparison.


End file.
